University of Virginia Library

THE STORY OF PIER FARNESE, THE VENETIAN KNIGHT.

The fourth day of their journey, as the sun was declining below the Sierra
Moeda, leaving a golden effulgence suffusing all the sky, the company of cavaliers
approached a stately castle, the abode of a famous knight, Don Alonzo de
Aguilar, now stricken in years. He was seated in his hall, before an open
casement, looking forth upon the highway, as they slowly wound up the valley.
His grand-daughter was reading to him an ancient ballad called `The
Lady of the Tree;' for though no longer able to engage in knightly achievements,
and do chivalrous deeds for love and lealty, he delighted to sit in his
oaken chair and listen to the sweet voice of Donna Violante; and certes, never
were ballads given in sweeter melody than discoursed in her low musical tones.
This is the ballad the maiden was reading to the old knight:

`He was a false knight, child,' said the old noble, when Donna Violante had
ended; `he should have forthwith delivered the charmed maiden from her
thralment. For such emprises is chivalry maintained.'

`She rightly treated him, sire, by not speaking to him, for all his kneeling
on the sward,' said Donna Violante; `no doubt this shameful knight killed
himself in the wood as he promised.'

`He should ha' done it, daughter. But what company journeyeth hitherward?
Look—thy eyes are young. I see the glancing of steel and the flutter
of bonnets.'

`It is a brave company of knights and men-at-arms, sire,' exclaimed Donna
Violante, clapping her hands and looking delighted as she gazed forth. `One,
two, five, seven brave knights are riding in advance, on prancing steeds, and their
esquires and retinue come up behind!'

`They doubtless come from the tournament, and journey homeward. It is
evening, and they should soon encamp. Let us go forth to the castle gate, and
as they ride past I will offer them hospitality.'

When the knights got opposite the great gate of the castle, not knowing its
lord, they were riding by, when suddenly they beheld it thrown open, and the
old noble appear, his locks white as wool, leaning on his sweet grand-daughter's
arm.

`God save you all, gentle knights,' he said, waving his hand for them to stop;
`the day is past, and it is many a mile to hamlet or hotel; and I should bring
shame upon my head to let so brave a company take lodging in the forest, when
my castle hath roof and room. So alight, fair cavaliers, and share the hospitality
of Alonzo de Aguilar.'

When the knights heard this name, and so knew who the fine old knight was,
they one and all lifted their travelling bonnets and did him reverence, for chivalry
acknowledged no better or nobler name than his. Donna Violante moddestly
seconded the hospitable invitation of her grandsire, and the knights,
thanking them for their courtesy, which would not be said nay, rode into the
court of the castle, and became their guests for the night.

After the hospitable meal which Donna Violante and her maids had quickly
provided for them, was over, the whole party remained seated in pleasant talk
around the board. Sir Henry Percie, whose heart was deeply smitten by the
gentle beauty of the fair hostess, being seated near her, was entertaining her
with accounts of the tournament, and of his journey, and how they had beguiled
the hour of their encampment, by tales of each other's lands. On hearing
this, Donna Violante signified her desire that the Venetian knight, whose
lot Sir Henry Percie had told her it was, should relate his story for the evening's
pastime. The old knight of Aguilar, also pressing him to tell it, he thus
began:

`It was in the year 1204,' began the handsome and gallant signor Pier Farnese,
looking respectfully towards the maiden, `when the combined chivalry of
France and Venice lay before Constantinople. The bosom of the Golden Horn
was covered with the war galleys of the Venetians, and its shores were white
with the warlike tents of their allies, the Franks. The seige had lasted long,

and yet the infidel Turks held their city untouched by a Christian foot, though
a hundred thousand soldiers of the cross were encamped around her gates within
bolt shot. One brilliant morning the rising sun shimmered the rippling Bosphorus
with liquid gold, flashed back from a hundred minarets of silver, and
blazed from myriads of lances, helmets and banners. The fleet of numerous
war galleys looked like burnished barks in the radiant splendor of its beams,
and the satin tents of the princess and chief knights lining the green shores of
the Bosphorus, shone like palaces of pearl. Never such morning beamed on
such gallant show; while from the minarets was heard the loud cry of the
muezzin of `Allah il allah,' calling the infidel to prayer, mingling with trumpets
of the Christian hosts assembling to battle outside the walls. It was the
fortieth day of the seige, and the Turks had kept themselves so close within
their city that no warlike deed had yet been done. There was many a brave
knight who, riding up to the city gate, threw defiance at the Saracen, and challenged
a combatant, but none up to this time had appeared to answer any of
these numerous invitations to fair and open battle.

`In the midst of this brilliant and stirring scene on the morning I have described,
the attention of Turk, Gaseon and Venetian was drawn to a superb
galley that shot round a point of the Golden Horn, and gallantly and swiftly
approached the Doge's galley of state. It was a fair and stately vessel, with
three banks of plashing oars, and it skimmed the waters as if its feathery sweeps
were living wings. On all sides, as it advanced into the port, were heard exclamations
of delight and surprise at its great velocity, as well as at its splendor;
for many a morn one would look seaward and not such a bark behold!—
It had three tall masts of cedar,polished like ivory; broad sails of blue satin: a
burnished poop of beaten gold, and on her lofty prow was perched the bronzed
eagle of St. Marc. Her decks were bristling with casques, cuisses and shields,
and ever and anon a shout would be borne therefrom over the water, which
was answered back from galley and camp.

`By the good rood, messieurs,' said Charles of Anjou, who from his tent beheld
the approach of the galley; `this is a fair show! Hath Cleopatra risen
from the sea to visit us? 'Tis a Venetian bark by her sign of the lion of San
Marco. Who knoweth her?'

`It must be the nephew of the Doge, my liege, the young knight Medici de
Contavini, who is daily looked for to join us,' answered one.

`He must be a rare youth to came in such guise! By my beard, I would have
sworn that a maiden sailed in yon pretty toy! Yet, fore God! there is good
warlike show of steel heads on her decks, and her rowers have sinews!'

`'Tis said he is a gay gallant, my liege, and spendeth great incomes upon his
apparel; yet I have heard he knoweth how to hse steel as well as glitter in
gold.'

`Certes, he shall here have an opportunity,' said the French king, `Methinks
such garrish outside should be a braggart's! We will try him. See,
he hath anchored his gilded plaything by the Doge's galley, which with its
iron prow, steel plated poop, tall black sides and warlike garments contrasts
well.'

The Doge, in the meanwhile, the brave, blind old Dandolo, received the
newly arrived knight on board his galley with an affectionate embrace, and
leading him into his room of state, there discoursed with him of Venice. The
same afternoon, Charles of Anjou gave an entertainment to the chief knights
of Venice and of France, in his princely tent. The young knight Medici di
Contavini was invited and came. He was a tall, finely moulded young men,
clad in armor of Damascus steel, embossed and inlaid with gold. His hose
were silk, worked with gold; he wore a collar of diamonds clasped with an emerald,
and jewels of great beauty sparkled on the cross of his sword. The pole
of his lance was of cedar wood, inlaid with silver, and an amethyst was set in
its handle. Gloves of chamois, worked with the needle in brilliant devices,
and scented with perfumes, were on his hands, and a gorgeous cap, adorned

with a priceless pearl, was upon his head. He was mounted on a snow-white
palfrey, with housings of cloth of gold, with a tread as dainty as a lady's. When
Charles of Anjou, who was clad in mailed steel, without ornament, saw him
approach, he spoke some words of contempt to those around him, and when he
came up received him with ill grace, not concealing his dislike. The Venetian
knight did not heed this manner; but gracefully saluted him, and dismounting,
gave his palfrey in charge to a page, who, scarce less richly attired
than his master, had attended him, riding a slender-limbed snow-white Arabian.

`Now, by my knighthood,' said Anjou to an English knight, `I have not
seen in Christendom such discredit to Christian arms. He bringeth contempt
on chivalry, and is only fit for spoil to these musselmen, who, if they know
what a gay popinjay we had in camp, would make a special sally for his capture.
So long as they know they would get only steel and iron knocks, they
have kept close enough.'

Thus spoke the brave and rough French prince before the banquet began;
and took thence no further heed of the knight of Venice; who mating with
cavaliers of his own age, soon made himself quite at his ease.

The entertainment was sumptuous and hospitable as became a princess's
board. The discourse among the guests was of the long leaguer that probably
was before them ere they could take the city. Many a plan was discussed for
shortening the seige; but none pleased the prince, who, knowing the strength
of the walls, was content to get the victory by and by with patient waiting for
it. After several knights had spoken their mind of the matter, the young Venetian
knight, Medici di Contavini, having listened to each with great attention
rose up and said,

`It were no difficult matter, methinks, to take this city! The infidels are
brave only in their defences! A well-directed attack upon the gate over against
St. Sophia, would be successful, and entrance once made, the place would fall
into our hands.'

`It were easy to get words, sir Venetian,' scornfully answered Charles of
Anjou, who with all the knights present, had looked on the speaker with surprise;
`words are easily got: but deeds we want!'

`My liege!' said a young French knight present; `this gilded cavalier did
openly boast without the tents, before we sat down to repast, that he with a
thousand men could easily take the city; and wondering much that we should
lay thus quietly before its gates.'

`Said he so?' shouted Anjou fiercely.

`I did, noble prince,' said the young Medici in a firm tone.

`Then by the throne of France you shall not want the occasion to put your
words to proof!'

`If you will place at my command one thousand men, I will, ere to-morrow's
sun, plant the standard of St Marc where over yonder gate now waves the cresent
of the infidel!'

`Good words these, fair sir,' said Charles, who was not a little astonished to
hear such come from a `boudoir knight,' as he had contemptuously termed him
when he first beheld him. `Seven times we have been driven back from her
gates with great loss of life.'

`Give me the men I ask, and the deeds they betoken shall be as good,' answered
Medici de Contavini, with quiet determination. `If I fail, let my head
answer it.'

`By Saint Dennis! but his speech rings like good metal, if there be gilt atop,'
said the prince to those near by. `Thou shalt have thy wish, sir knight. `As this is a venture of thy seeking, and in which we have little faith, and do consent
to it only to punish thy vain boasting, the condition of thy failure shall be
the loss of thy spurs; they being of gold will serve the soldiers better than they
will have done thee, by being coined into sterling bezants.'

The Venetian knight little heeded the contemptuous manner of the French

king, nor the smiles of the knights, who could not help comparing his bravery
of words with the fippery of his apparelling.

`When wilt thou go on this emprise to take the city for us, sir knight of the
casket?' asked the king's fool.

`I am now ready, good fool; wilt be my esquire?' replied the knight, playfully;
so that all wondered that he kept his temper so coolly.

`Art ready, sayst thou?' demanded the king. `'Tis two hours to the setting
of the sun, a short time, forsooth, in which to take a city. But so doughty a
knight need not have many minutes in achieving the exploit he boasts of If
thou art ready, I will soon have not only one, but five thousand halberds, and
a hundred lances a saddle!'

The young Venetian smiled haughtily, and rising from the table, went out,
the knights and gentlemen also going after him. At the prince's command, a
thousand stout men-at-arms, all in iron breast and back pieces, filed before his
tent; and a hundred knights, mounted on proud and pawing horses, with great
bravery of targets and glittering lances, their banners all displayed, pranced
by with waving of plumes, and beneath each corselet a buoyant heart and bold.

All the while the young Venetian knight, whose words had called forth this
warlike cavalcade, stood near the prince, calm and unmoved, watching the
brave show of war. When he saw that all had passed by, and were ready marshalled
on the plain, he turned to his page and spoke low in his ear. The boy
left him, and the prince said,

`Now, sir Venetian, the lances I lend thee are in rest, waiting thee to mount.
By the mass, I look to see thy jewelled mail rolling in the dust beneath yon
der towers, if thou darest trust thy perfumed locks so near them. But the issue
be thine!'

`Noble prince of Anjou, that a knight's valor lieth not in his apparrel, but
in his heart, I trust this day to teach thee and thy gentlemen,' answered Medit
ci di Contavini.

The prince was about to reply hastily, when his attention was drawn to an
esquire of gigantic stature, armed cap-a-pie, in plain iron mail, mounted upon
a brown horse of large size, and leading a jet black steed giittering with Milan
mail. This esquire rode up to the Venetian knight, and dismounting, gave
him a polished steel helmet in place of his golden one, which his page took from
him; an iron collar for the jewelled one he wore; a cuirass of proof mail, and
a sword with an iron hilt, in exchange for the one with the jewelled handle;
stout gauntlets of steel replaced his perfumed chamois gloves; and iron boots
with iron spurs, the embroidered hose. The transformation was soon made;
and the late beau cavalier stood before the surprised Charles of Anjou, a well-appointed
knight, clad in steel from head to heel. Ere he could express his
surprise, Medici di Contavini receiving his horse from his esquire, leaped into
his steel saddle and sat erect thereon, before the prince and the whole camp of
warriors. Charles of Anjou gazed a moment upon the warlike and knightly
figure which the Venetian presented, then struck his gauntlet-armed hand upon
his thigh, and swore ne'er knight of braver presence had sat on horseback
bore him.

`Fore God! brave Venetian. I have done thee wrong, I fear me,' said Anjou,
bluntly.

`Let the issue of this day tell,' answered the knight of Venice quietly. `If
you have given me these brave knights and soldiers to aid me in my enterprise,
let me at once lead them forth.'

The knight of Medici then placed himself at the head of the troops, the
trumpets sounded with loud and stirring notes; and in sight of the whole
French army and fleet of Venetian galleys, the young Venetian knight rode at
easy pace across the plain, toward the city walls. When the Mussulmen, from
the towers and battlements, beheld this warlike array approaching the principal
gate of their city, the alarm flew round that the whole christian army was
moving to the attack. The infidel leaders gathered their forces at the weakest

points, the walls were trebly manned, and every preparation was made to meet
the anticipated assault.

The entrance of an old seneschal, with a fresh supply of wine, here caused
the cavalier to pause in his narrative.

`There is but little more to add, fair maiden and gentle knights,' continued
Pier Farnese, after old Alonzo de Aguilar had drank the health of all the cavaliers
present; `there is little more to add. The brave young Venetian fulfilled
to the letter his boast. Under a shower of arrows, lances, and fiery darts, hurled
from the walls and gate tops, this courageous youth pressed forward alone
to the gate, after his men-at-arms had shrunk back or stood still appalled.—
With his battle-axe in his hand, Contavini assailed the plated gate, and in
tones of defiance called upon them to open to their master.

Seeing his courage and gallant bearing, the soldiers, who had been arrested
by the flights of arrows and lances, covering their bodies with their shields
and pressing close together, rushed on to his aid. When they came up he had
already made a breach in the gate with the blows of his ponderous battle-axe,
with the edge of which he cut through the iron plates with which it was sheathed.
In a few minutes, aided by the rest who came up, he achieved an entrance
into the city and drove the Saracen defenders back from street to street. Entering
the palace the victorious Venetian captured the Sultan with his own
hand, after a terrible combat, in which great deeds of valor were done on both
sides.

Charles of Anjou who, from his camp, saw the valiant attack of the knight
upon the gate of St. Sophia, and seeing how he was deserted by his men-at-arms,
sounded the trumpet for a general charge to his rescue; for that the
brave knight would perish, he surely believed, before he could make good his
pledge to take the city.

But before the King had got three hundred bows' lengths from the camp, he
saw the gate hacked down by the battle axes of the knight, and his men-at-arms
and the way open into the city; which from the walls and towers the Musslemen
were flying in the greatest consternation.

This feat of the Venetian Knight placed the rich metropolis of the East in
the hands of the Christian hosts, and its ultimate effect upon the destinies of the
Europe and of the world were incalculable. The Venetians erected a monument
in honor of their Champion, and every European count heaped honors
upon his head, and to crown the whole, Anjou gave him his neice the Princess
Castele in marriage.'

With these words Pier Farnese the Venitian knight ended his Romance, expressed
his wishes that the lovely Donna Violante should decide which knight
should have the palm.

`That I may give fair judgment, noble knights,' said the maiden, `I must also
hear your stories repeated as you have given them to each other in your nightly
encampment.

`This would take us full three evening's more, fair lady,' answered the English
knight bluffly.

`Then let it take three and thirty more, an' you will, brave knights and gentlemen,'
answered old Don Alonzo de Aguilon with hearty hospitality in his
tones. `I would glady have you my guests as long as you will make my poor
castle your abode!'

`Then we will een remain with you, the three days,' said the Scottish knight;
`for there is no time that presses any of us. What shall we say, gentle cavaliers?'

`We will all abide as guests with the noble de Aguilar, and his lovely daughter
Donna Violante, three days more,' answered all the knights with one voice.

The three following evenings, then, the three knights who had told their
stories over again, in hearing of the old knight and his sweet daughter.

At the close of the third evening the decision of the matter of respective
merit was submitted to the fair judge who, after mingling with the testimony

on all sides gave in her judgment in favor of the Spanish knight, Don Fernando
de Valor.

This decision was approved by two of the three knights who had taken no
part in the debate; and also the veteran warrior, the brave old Alonzo de Aguilar.
The Roman knight, however, did not fully assent to the judgment that
gave precedency to Spanish knighthood over all others, and said that he and
the English and Scottish knight, would as they traveled, also narrate deeds of
of their own lands which would show that there were as brlliant ornaments of
chivalry in England, Rome or Scotland, as in any court in Europe. This challenge
was not accepted by the four knights, though the three cavaliers warmly
urged that they had a right to be heard; and as it now waxed late, they retired
each to his apartment, preparatory to refreshing themselves for resuming their
journey early on the morrow.